9 months...Almost 

Some of the memories fade away. I guess it's both human nature and part growing older. It's inevitable yet not something any of us wish.

Over the past few months, I've struggled to come up with just the right words to express my feelings or relay what's going on in the Melius family, almost 9 months since Kim died.

This month, the words come easy.

August 20 is oldest son Ben's birthday, born in 1979. Kim and I would joke that Ben's was easy to remember -- 7 months after our wedding!

Kim was hoping for a September wedding and we had things pretty well set for a late summer event. But some Thanksgiving weekend celebrating in Mankato changed that a bit.

Initially, when we found out Kim was pregnant, it pretty much not only threw plans for a September wedding into some chaos, our college studies were going to be a bit more challenging. I had just one semester left at the University of Minnesota; Kim had a full year left at Mankato State.

We decided to move things up to March 24, which became quite a day in the Melius household. Our anniversary, Grandpa Mel Polzin's birthday, and down the road, third child and second son William's birth date.

Thirty-seven years later, the first-born memories have not faded. Ben was a beautiful baby with big eyes, curly hair right out the chute. Kim, I'm thinking, probably wouldn't like how that's phrased, for I was just a spectator. She did the hard work. Six times, too.

That first-born experience is so special, not that the other five Melius children weren't, but the fear of the unknown, the amazing emotions of holding that creation of ours, the fear and excitement of what's ahead when Kim and I drove away from the Arlington hospital. Precious, lasting memories.

Kim was such a trooper. After a very brief honeymoon which included a small Bloomington hotel. (We actually watched the Ten Commandments the first night, but that's another story.) She went back to MSU for spring quarter; I went back to 1104 South Eighth St. in Minneapolis, rooming with Gary "Gigs" Saxton.

Kim never liked the Twin Cities. It might have been the location of our duplex, on a busy street which then turned into Hwy. 55 East. It might have been that evening when we looked out our window to see a burning mattress on the front yard. Whatever the reasons, Kim never really warmed up to the metro area.

On weekends, we'd come back to Winthrop and stay at Kim's parents' house. She continued her social work studies, growing bigger by the day, even taking some summer classes to get ahead. I was so proud of her and should have told her that more often through the years.

Ben's presence in our lives drastically changed Kim and my plans. We really weren't certain what those plans might be, but we never truly imagined living in Winthrop all our lives. The old, fading black and white picture of Ben's first T-ball score has always been one of my favorites, as the park became a key part of our lives.

We made Winthrop home and, for the most part, was good to us, especially the 1980s emergence of GFW schools. And while there are always times one wonders what might have transpired on a different journey, there are no regrets. And looking back never changes the road ahead.

Kim and I were honest to one another -- had we not settled into the old hometown, we might not have had six children. We might not have even managed to stay together for 36 years, for our personal journeys were so completely different.

But we did. And we cherished the diversity of our children and the joys they brought to our lives. I have said it often since Kim died -- our six children are Kim's living legacy. I am not just proud of that fact, I am honored. They have often held me up when I should have been shouldering their needs. I will never be able to thank them enough.

The Melius family has journeyed together through some ups and downs. There will be more. Kim's death sidetracked all of us, stunned us. But we are stronger because of her.

Some memories fade, like old photographs. The legacies left by Kim in the eyes of her children, in her passion for hospice and families dealing with death and dying, and now in our grandchildren, will never die.

Matt and Krystal's Aug. 6 wedding was another special time for all of us. Kim would have loved to have been a part of it. We continue to miss her dearly. Hopefully, she's smiling. Pissed she missed it. But moving us on.